


Illium Heart-Ache

by Fatiguesdualism



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fatiguesdualism/pseuds/Fatiguesdualism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard goes for a drink, right after breaking up with Liara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alone

**A/N:**  This started off as a Valentine's Day story but went way, way over schedule (it's a gift) It also lacks the 'cute' ending I had wanted to write, but if you want a story about Shepard being moody here you go. As a 'bonus' this version kind-of (you may have to squint though) works as a prequel to Three Little Words and Stuck in the Middle...Not so sure that counts as a bonus...

* * *

**Illium**

"What will you have?" The asari working behind the bar asked. As asari bar-tenders went she was a little...unusual. There was no cheerful, almost playful, tone in her voice instead the blue-skinned bar-tender sounded disinterested, jaded even – and then there was her appearance. Asari could live for over a millennia with, by human standards at least, very few outwards signs of time's passage. The table dancer that was the focus of a small bachelor's party nearby could easily be five times Shepard's own age, even Li...even  _she_... had already lived over a century–

"The dancers aren't for sale," the bartender's voice derailed Shepard's dark thoughts, "neither am I. So either pick a drink or go somewhere else."

Shepard's scowl didn't seem to phase the...the mature-looking...asari. "Aren't you a little old to be a barmaid?" The Spectre retorted.

"What, you thought Matriarchs all just sat around and dispensed wisdom to the kids back on Thessia?" The Matriarch was openly scornful, "Well I hate to break it to you but not all of us do that, some of us even own bars right here on Illium."

Shepard mentally revised the asari's age upwards...a lot upwards, "You're right; I'm sorry," the Spectre apologised, just because Li... _she_...was a cold, heartless, unfaithful– Just because one asari had ripped his heart out, didn't give him a free pass to be obnoxious. "I'll take..." Shepard's dulled eyes scanned the extensive collection of bottles behind the matriarch, "...the green one. The whole bottle."

"The whole bottle?" There was more than a hint of scepticism in the asari's voice, "You're sure?"

"The bottle," Shepard repeated, "and a table. A quiet one, out of the way."

"Sure," the bartender lifted the plain bottle from its shelf and placed it on the bar. The price of the unassuming bottle almost made the Spectre reconsider his choice, but in the end he angrily authorised his omni-tool to transfer the credits from the Normandy´s accounts.

"You have someone I should call?" The matriarch asked as Shepard lifted his purchase, "A next-of-kin or something?"

"Liara T'So–" Shepard cut himself off. S _he_  had made it clear that was over. " _YUNDAI_  dock, wharf two-nine-seven," Shepard answered, "they'll send someone." The Spectre walked off to find a table, bottle in one hand and a pair of shot-glasses in the other.


	2. Miranda

The footsteps we're precise, measured, confident. Shepard didn't even need to look up to know who was approaching, instead he kept his eyes firmly focused on the shot glass in front of him.

The shot glass, its lime-green content, and their unspoken promise.

The footsteps stopped, the intruder was standing right next to him. "Take a seat, XO," Shepard said flatly without lifting his gaze from the table.

For a second, a hand rested on the Spectre's shoulder and then it was gone; Shepard tried to ignore the sense of life the brief contact sparked.

"I'm sorry," The rare warmth in Miranda's voice touched Shepard more deeply than her words, "if there had been any other way of getting that information..."

"I would still have gone to see her," Shepard told his glass, "still would have learned she–" The Spectre angrily bit off the rest of his sentence.

"You might not have," Miranda gently disagreed as she took Shepard's hand before the Spectre could reach for his glass, "You've been pushing yourself harder than anyone else; preparing the Normandy, inspiring the crew...helping Orianna and me...You haven't really taken any time for yourself since the Normandy launched."

Shepard wanted to wave off Miranda's words, but couldn't with the brunette's hand atop his. "I just took a personal moment," The Spectre said bitterly instead, "you can see how well it went."

"I can see that it hurt you," Miranda replied, "and I can see you don't want the others to know that. I know what that's like, being the one everyone else is looking to, being the one who can't be seen to break...and I know that everybody needs someone."

"I did – once," Shepard said as he raised his eyes to meet Miranda's, "then I died and she broke my trust."

"You were gone for nearly two years," Miranda's clear blue eyes held the same look as they had the first time Shepard ever saw them, a mixture of concern and reassurance, "and she didn't, couldn't, know if we could even succeed. You shouldn't be angry at her for moving on with her life–"

"–Moving on?" Shepard angrily interrupted, "She found me, only instead of giving me back to the Alliance she sold me. Sold me to the same group that nearly killed me on Akuze, to the same group that's murdered, tortured, and experimented on people all in the name of  _humanity_." The Spectre freed his hand from the pinning grasp of the Illusive Man's agent as his voice turned venomous, "Then she just walked away and started some mad crusade against the Shadow Broker, a crusade that's twisted her further into some cold-hearted monster." Shepard's hand finally snatched up the glass in front of him, slopping a little of the green liquid over the rim onto the table, but before he could raise it Miranda's hand seized his wrist.

"So Liara's not your innocent little scientist any-more," Miranda's anger was icy quiet, "she's made decisions for herself, decisions that you disagree with." The brunette's voice was contemptuous as she released the Spectre's wrist, "But at least, Shepard, she's not the one about to crawl into a bottle because her feelings were hurt."

The anger Shepard had been ignoring since leaving Liara's office surged as it finally found a target to lash at. "That's why you're here?" Shepard hissed, "You think I'm going to do what my father did after [Mindoir]; run away and let everything fall apart?" The Spectre's glass returned to the table as Shepard instead pointed a finger at Miranda's face, "Not all of us have a heart-of-ice, Miranda, sometimes we get hurt and we need to do  _something_ –"

The brunette Cerberus agent batted Shepard's accusatory finger aside. "So you decided to crawl into the first bar you could see through your tears," Miranda retorted, "and drink yourself senseless. Then what were you going to do? Stumble back to Liara's office and drunkenly beg her to take you back?" Icy blue eyes bore deep into Shepard's soul.

"Begging to monsters never works," Shepard snarled as he stared back, "especially to cold, blue-eyed–"

The force of Miranda's open-handed slap snapped Shepard's head to one side.

The Spectre slowly turned his head back to face the brunette sitting across from him, hands clenched tight as he worked his jaw.

Miranda stared back, her blue eyes still dangerously angry, but almost hidden behind the anger was something else...pain. "You should be careful what you say to cold-hearted monsters, Shepard," the brunette stated as she stood to leave, "sometime we react."

Shepard sat, listening to the fading sound of Miranda's hurried steps as she walked away, as he struggled with his own thoughts.


	3. Jack

"Shit, Boyscout," Jack's voice dragged Shepard out of his thoughts, "the Cheerleader was nearly bawling there," the tattooed convict dropped gracelessly into the seat her nemesis had just left, "maybe if you'd only hit her back. Want me to do it?"

"Jack," Shepard sighed as his left hand rose to palm his sore face, "what are you doing here?" The Spectre knew better than to try and dissuade Jack from her hatred of the Cerberus agent.

"Wanted to see what the Cheerleader was up to," Jack's voice was cheerful as she swiped the Spectre's bottle from the table, "I knew she was scheming something when she left the Normandy on her own." The slight woman took a long swallow from her appropriated bottle, "Especially after she finished shouting at Mr Serious and the Bucket Head for leaving you alone out here."

"Miranda.." Shepard hesitated as he started to wonder exactly  _why_  the attractive brunette had tracked him down, "...Miranda is the Normandy's second-in-command; she was just doing her job, Jack."

The ex-convict gave a short laugh and took another long swallow, letting out a contented sigh as she finished that wafted an almost physically tangible cloud of alcohol fumes across the table towards Shepard. "The Cheerleader's  _job_ ," Jack announced as she leaned back slightly and put her booted feet up on the table, "is to prance around in that cat-suit and try and fool you into thinking Cerberus can't be  _all_  bad." Jack paused a moment to examine the bottle in her hand, she seemed to have a little difficulty in getting her eyes to focus. "That's primo hooch," Jack decided before taking another drink.

"Glad you're enjoying it," Shepard mildly observed.

"You've got taste, Boyscout," Jack's eyes had started to develop a sheen as she stared at Shepard, "and that's what annoys the Cheerleader. She can bounce that gene-eng'd ass all-day and you're not goin' to follow it, fall for it, I mean' fall for it." Jack's rambling was paused again as she took another long drink. "And  _that's_  why she here was," Jack slurred, "she heard you're all hurt and vulnible...and vulnib...and vilnub...and hurt and shit, and she was goin' pretend to be all caring." Jack took another quick swallow, "And 'cause you're messed all up, you'd fall for it."

Shepard tried not to let the sudden sense of guilt he was feeling at Jack's version of Miranda's motivation show. "Maybe you should take it easy with that," Shepard nodded at the two-thirds full bottle in Jack's hands, "the asari behind the bar implied it was strong stuff."

"Wha' you don't thick I can licker my hold?" The ex-convict slurred before deliberately taking another long pull before continuing, "There. Zee?"

"I'm over here, Jack," Shepard sighed.

"I knows 'hat," Jack protested as she turned her head closer to Shepard's direction, "stop tryin' an' makin' me angry, Sheppey. I'm gonna do a favour you." Jack started giggling and clicking her fingers, "Sheppey – that's funny. Here, Sheppey-Sheppey-Sheppey."

"Hilarious," Shepard's voice was flat as he cautiously watched the drunken biotic's fingers flare blue as she continued clicking, "and what's this favour, Jack?" Shepard had to repeat himself to get the biotic's attention, "Jack! What are you planning?"

Jack's boots fell from the table-top as she up, swaying dangerously as she tried to focus on Shepard. "I'm goin' to find your ex," The biotic slurred as the blue flaring of her biotics danced up and down her tattooed arms, "and mess her up."

Something inside the seated Spectre froze as Jack happily smiled down at him. Threats wouldn't work, Shepard knew, Jack wasn't one to back down – and as drunk as she was Shepard doubted the biotic would react well if he tried. In fact unless he was willing to put a round through her head, Shepard doubted he could prevent Jack from carrying out her mad 'favour' – which whilst tempting wasn't really a solution Shepard wanted – which left...

The Spectre's arm shot out, wrapping itself around Jack's slim waist and pulling the tattooed ex-convict down onto his lap. "I've got a better idea..." Shepard put a little roughness in his voice as he reclaimed his bottle from the surprised biotic's hand.

Jack shifted slightly in her new seat, finding a more comfortable position, before her arms wrapped themselves behind Shepard's neck and asking, "The Boyscout want's another go?" This close the alcohol on Jack's breath almost burned.

The Spectre clamped down on the guilt Jack's words triggered. Their tryst in the dimly lit sub-deck had been a mistake, Shepard knew, but if repeating it kept Jack away from Liara... "I don't remember you complaining last time," Shepard breathed into the drunk woman's ear, "in fact.."

"You're lucky I'm drunk," Jack whispered as her hands captured Shepard's face, causing Shepard to wince as she put pressure on the bruise from Miranda's earlier slap, "drunk enough to give you a pity fuck." Angry brown eyes bored into Shepard's as the biotic pulled his head closer and kissed him.

The kiss was a lazy, sloppy thing and tasted overwhelmingly of the alcohol on Jack's breath. After several long seconds the biotic's hands fell away and Shepard had to catch Jack before she slid to the floor. For a strange, weird, moment Shepard was torn between annoyance and relief as Jack began to snore.


	4. Garrus

"If I'd known you were that bad with women," Garrus drawled as he claimed the seat the unconscious Jack had vacated, "I wouldn't have let that gunship leave me with this." The turian's talon gently tapped at his wounded face.

"How long?" Shepard asked resignedly as he shifted Jack into a more comfortable position.

"The whole thing," Garrus responded, "I thought Jack might try something when I saw her shadowing Miranda off the Normandy. So I followed her."

"That's...a little spooky, Garrus," Shepard told his friend, "I know you meant well, but if Jack had caught you following her? She's not exactly easy-going."

"Please, Shepard," Garrus' voice was dismissive, "Jack wasn't going to spot me. I was more worried about Miranda catching Jack." The turian nodded towards the sleeping biotic, "Your convict stands out in a crowd, Miranda must have been really sloppy not to have spotted her new shadow."

"Maybe..." Shepard let his voice trail off before he could defend Miranda's lapse in surveillance, the brunette still had him confused. "Did you have a plan for dealing with that," The Spectre asked instead, "or were you just going to watch if the two of them went toe-to-toe?"

The turian chuckled as he placed a single palm-sized disc on the table. "Remember Noveria?" Garrus asked before continuing, "Well that's the same idea; they'd have been unconscious in under eight seconds."

"I didn't know Jacob had something like that in the armoury." Shepard mused as the woman he was holding continued to snore.

" _He_  doesn't," Garrus explained as he returned the grenade to a small pouch on his sleeve, "these are some left-overs from my time on Omega – our surprise for when Cerberus turns on us."

"Just be careful with those," Shepard sighed, "and make sure they're secure. Things are tense enough aboard ship without the rest of the crew discovering you're secretly stocking chemical weapons."

"Terrorists being scared by illegal weapons on their ship," Garrus muttered, "that sounds like one of Joker's bad punchlines."

"We're not terrorists," Shepard objected.

"You're right," Garrus nodded, " _We're_  not. Neither are Chakwas or Solus – as for the rest of them? They're all Cerberus," the former vigilante pointed straight at Jack, "or worse."

"Yet they're the ones stepping up," Shepard argued, "doing the right thing when no-one else can, Garrus."

"For once," Garrus responded, "and we both know the Illusive Man, Cerberus, have their own agenda they're not telling us." The turian frowned, "You haven't forgotten who they really are, Shepard, what they're guilty of?"

"I haven't," Shepard reassured his friend, "only in this case..."

"...In this case Miranda Lawson," Garrus finished, ignoring the glare Shepard directed his way at the interruption. "Please, Shepard," Garrus explained, "Lawson is smart, capable, attractive by human norms–"

"–attractive by human norms?"

Garrus pointedly ignored his friend's question, "Shepard, when it comes to women – you don't always show the best judgement."

"Garrus," Shepard paused as Jack's snoring hitched, hoping that sleeping woman wasn't waking. After a few tense seconds the Spectre resumed talking, albeit in a softer voice, "Garrus, you're my friend but you're wrong."

"Really?" Garrus verbally prodded his friend.

"Garrus, what do you want me to say here?" Shepard's exasperation was clear, "Yes Miranda is beautiful and yes, maybe, I'm attracted to her – but she isn't going to persuade me to join Cerberus. Ever."

"Good to hear," Garrus' voice was relieved even if his posture didn't relax, "but what about Jack?"

Shepard stole a quick, guilty, look at the still senseless biotic before responding. "Take her back to the Normandy," Shepard ordered instead of answering his friend's question, "and maybe get Chakwas to check her over, just to be safe."

"That's not what I meant," Garrus complained as he watched Shepard awkwardly stand with Jack in his arms, "and why am I taking Jack?"

"Because you're my friend," Shepard explained as he gently deposited Jack into his friend's arms, "because you're heading back to the Normandy, because I need to go somewhere – and I can't turn up with an unconscious, drunk woman slung over my shoulder."

The turian gave his friend a flat, unhappy glare. "If Jack is sick on my armour," Garrus warned, "you are cleaning it – all of it."

"Sure," Shepard said as he placed a placating hand on his friend's shoulder, "just make sure Chakwas okays her, Garrus."


End file.
